Page 34 of Web of Lies
I should put her back in that chest. I should put her in it myself. If I had any sense at all I'd put her in there, lock it up, put it in the middle of the woods, and mail her piece of shit husband the key.
I should put Shaun in there with her. He's the reason I've been unable to sleep tonight, not her or her insidious little smile. He's the reason I'm laying here weighing my morals against my reputation and bank account.
Well, the bank account doesn't really need to be part of the equation. I don't actually need the money I'm supposed to make on this job, it's just smart to build up a nice little cushion. A small fortune makes it easy to plan for a possible disaster and I do enjoy a solid plan. The plan, or what was supposed to be the plan for this job, is the problem.
The plan was simple. The plan didn't include allowing myself to be pulled into the marital spats of a spoiled princess and the man she chose to tie herself to. It didn't include me having an opinion about any of it, much less worrying about what might happen to her if I give her back to her husband.
The feeling I had in my gut when I was talking to him was a clear message to stay away from this job and I ignored it. I let my curiosity get the better of me and now I give a shit about the job. I can't afford to give a shit about the job. The job has to go back to her life, whatever that will look like for her. And if word gets out that I took a job and botched it, or didn't complete it, or did any of the things I've been trying not to consider…
It will be a stain on my reputation that will follow me. I'll have to change so many things.
I reach up and press the heels of my palms against my eyes, willing the pressure to allow me to see a clear path.
Larken was starving. She was starving herself on purpose. How pig-headed and willful do you have to be to starve yourself? She was doing a good job of it, too. I thought she was sick when she tried to walk after we pulled her out of the trunk on the first day. No. Just a self-imposed hunger strike. For what? I saw that house. I saw the neighborhood. She could order whatever she wanted, or pay someone to make whatever she wanted, and I guarantee it wouldn't be a peanut butter sandwich.
I need answers. I could call the husband, but he's an obvious liar. She hasn't offered any information other than what I've gathered purely from observation. She's stubborn. She doesn't like tight spaces. She's afraid of food and water.
She doesn't like for you to talk while she's trying to sleep.
I rake my hands through my hair and yank on the ends then I sit up. There's no reason for me to care about whether or not she likes being woken up. There's no reason for me to be observing anything. This. Is. A. Job.
I'm going to go wake her up.
I need to know why the husband is doing this.
I need to know if he's going to pay what he owes if I do carry through my end.
I need to know why Larken was terrified of drinking a cup of water.
I need to know why she's trying to starve herself to death.
I need to clear my head and get a grip on myself. What's wrong with me? What I need to do is go get in the car and take a drive. That almost always helps. It helps, but I don't have the time to waste. This is already a longer job than one like this should ever be. I still need those questions answered, though. Whether I have a grip on myself or not. Looking at my phone, I see that it's just after 3am . The perfect time to wake her up and get some answers. It's not like I'm getting any sleep tonight anyway.
When I get downstairs, I find an empty living room when I expect a full one. Again. Panic doesn't tighten my chest but irritation bordering on rage tries to claw its way to the surface. If she's in that chest again I'm going to drag him into the yard by his ankles and throttle him with the water hose if it isn't dry rotted. I go straight to the bedroom and grit my teeth. There he is. Sprawled all over the bed with one arm dangling over the side. The key is in the same place it was last night, right in the center of the top of the chest. I don't bother waking Shaun, I just kneel down to unlock it.
She's not in there.
The panic that wasn't there before is most definitely there now.
I stand up and grab Shaun's ankle and drag him off the bed, enjoying the thud he makes on the floor when his body leaves the mattress.
“What the fuck!”
“Where is she?”
“What?”
“Where. Is. Larken.” I don't possess enough patience to keep the words from sounding harsh and biting.
“Calm down, man. She's fine.”
Water hose it shall be. I bend down and grab his ankle again and start for the hallway.
“What are you doing?” he laughs, not even trying to stop me from pulling him across the floor.
“Where is she, Shaun?”
“Why do you care? It's just a job.”
